


if i could reach my skies

by riddlesandrides



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Lonely Induced Amnesia, M/M, Sad & Depressing & a bit Hope, formerly sad ending, jon and martin love each other hours in the 2nd chapter, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27234076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riddlesandrides/pseuds/riddlesandrides
Summary: Martin is lost in the fog, and Jon tries to find him without straying from the path himself.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> first posted fic ever... i hope i will eventually finish the other wips one day, too... enjoy uwu  
> (also i barely beta-read it, if you find any typos or anything lmk :') )
> 
> edit 29th october 2020: added a new (and pretty much last) chapter - if you rather like an open ending with more sadness, you can also only read chapter one lol

The fog is cold. It isn‘t warm or welcoming – it invades his mind, it pierces the shell of himself to fill the cracks, to tell him that everything was okay. It isn‘t, however, and he would never want to forget that – he feels an emptiness right next to him, one that he hasn‘t felt so deep ever before in his life.

It never has been filled, not in this particular shape. He swore under his breath once it was too late, Martin already gone – gone here, apparently, gone into this soothing ache. He doesn‘t want to have him lost, but he has to admit it.

He doesn‘t want to admit it.

He would never ever in his life admit it – this something missing in his life, all the connections lost. It never has been so apparent to him that nothing would be fixed even when he gets Martin back another time.

This empty hole isn‘t only meant for him.

He feels the shadows, taking up space inside his mind that wants to focus. He can‘t get distracted by everyone else he, too, has lost – he can‘t let himself forget his purpose here, or the fog would claim him.

Looking at it, he is puzzled. He can‘t remember a time where the fog hasn‘t been here, around him, a painful mercy that let him go on in peace.

No, something isn‘t right – he goes on, further and further. It feels like an eternity, overall – as if wandering is the only right thing to do. But there – a glimpse of golden light in the constant blue of the Lonely.

Right. He is here – in the Lonely‘s domain. It isn‘t the first time, he has been here before. And everytime – everytime he almost lost, and everytime he could not prevent another time. Why has it happened this time again?

The apocalypse.

His head hurts thinking about it, so he tries to banish the thoughts from his mind, but he can‘t. He needs to know – but maybe, maybe he doesn‘t. Maybe he can just-

There is the sound of fabric rustling in front of him, and he sees a familiar shape in front of him. One he wants so desperately back by his side again.

„Martin-“ Jon approaches the other man, arms unfolding with an expression that speaks of hope in the early morning of winter, that the crispness of the air might soften over the day.

The called one looks at him, recognition barely cracking the shell of his lonely cage. Like sunlight, soft in its gentle glory, something spreads on his face. He reaches out, cold hands touching tear-stained skin.

„J-jon, are you- are you crying?“ His voice is incredulous, worry destroying the careful hope that has been visible just a few seconds ago.

„Wh- oh, oh, I- I suppose I am.“ Not wishing to break contact, Jon holds Martin‘s hand while one of his own rubs his cheeks, drys his skin. Softly, a thumb that is not his own traces the lines of his tears and his breath catches in his throat.

There is no warmth between them, not really, but it is building up, slowly, steadily.

„M-martin,“ Jon tries to begin, but he only burrows his face in the figure in front of him. He knows it isn‘t over – not yet. The fog still suffocates them, wants to drown every little word that might help them in white noise.

„Jon. Why- why are you here?“ Martin‘s voice is barely a whisper, the realisation leaving him marvelled and pained. It wants to distance itself from Jon, doesn‘t want him here in this place.

„Martin. I am- I am so sorry I left you, I hadn‘t thought I-“

„It‘s okay.“

Grasping for each point of contact, Jon clings to the cold wetness that makes him shiver and cry. But he can‘t let it show – he needs to stay strong, if not for himself, for Martin. For everyone he has already left behind.

„I‘m not leaving you. It‘s not okay – you, you should be angry at me. You should yell at me and scream and that would be okay.“ He wants to shake the other‘s dissipating form, not letting it go – it‘s hard.

„I‘m so sorry. I can‘t- I can‘t undo what I‘ve done, but I‘m going to be better, okay? So please… come back.“ He feels a wave of weakness hitting him, almost knocking him to the ground. His hands buried in Martin‘s airy shape, he does not let go. „I‘m not going to leave you here.“

Ice cold determination laces his voice, freezes it around the edges as he looks up once more, trying desperately to get a grip on what he is seeing. He can‘t, as he loses again.


	2. there might be a better ending for us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which love is rediscovered and held close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was motivated today to put some happy ending to it - and I am eternally grateful for everyone who read it, it really means a lot to me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this conclusion!

Time doesn‘t matter in this place – not here where its liquid passage has been frozen. There‘s only room for minimal shifts as it repeats the same sequences, altered in their details, over and over again. Jon moves like a broken record in this hellscape, tormented by the spikes in his fear that he has lost Martin forever, whenever he remembers.

He‘s holding onto this thought each time, repeating it and adding names that slowly start to lose all their meaning to him. In moments when they do mean _something_ to him, he tries to grasps for them like a drowning man – reaching for fog while he tries to keep the edges of himself in place, not washed out by the relentless sea.

He knows his time is almost over, that he needs to go or lose himself forever. Maybe he already has, he thinks thousands of times without remembering what came before, all fading into the white background.

„I can‘t. I can‘t lose him- I can‘t.“ Despair drips from his hoarse voice just like tears from his eyes as he stills, falls down. Exhaustion from walks he doesn‘t even remember marks his whole body, but he can‘t feel anything of it. He wonders for a moment if he just doesn‘t exist anymore.

„Martin. Martin.“

The name has a comforting sound – he doesn‘t remember who it belongs to, but a smile suddenly breaks on his face like the sun coming out behind dark storm clouds. He laughs, the sound too loud, too harsh for the softness of this realm.

„I need you,“ he whispers, clearing his throat. He looks at nothing at all, the fog the only thing that is in front of him. „I need you, and I want you here. You‘re – you‘re everything nice, I sometimes think, put into a very huggable shape and I want to keep you safe with me. I want _you_ to want to be with _me_.“

He doesn‘t talk to anyone in particular.  His feelings  just wash over him like snow melting in winter, joining the flow of rivers. It‘s slow, it‘s steady and, eventually, it‘s hard to stop.

He thinks to himself, if he‘s doomed, he might as well tell Martin everything. Because he is everywhere and nowhere at the same time – because he always has been there, Jon wants to believe, in his heart.  It‘s more cheesiness than he would have ever allowed himself before, but he doesn‘t want to keep himself back, not around him. Not when he could be here, flustered and  wearing that lovely shade of red.

„It‘s most likely not- not what you want, at least not anymore, and I am so sorry. I‘m the biggest idiot walking on earth, but it‘s not for having loved you. For still doing it, and doing it for as long as this place will let me remember you. Even afterwards I want you to know that I love you.“

He smiles, even though he can‘t remember why anymore. He just does, in this place that is cold and dark and this place that he hates, but here is something that makes him smile. Through the fog, he still has the feeling that sunlight touches his skin tenderly.

He might have gone mad, but he does not care.

„I love the constellations on your skin, like a bright sky with stars sprinkled all over it. The stars that you caught in your eyes, that twinkle every time you open your eyes. I love them, just like the little wrinkles of sunlight in your face whenever you smile. Your voice, nervous sometimes, often, actually, but never unkind. I want to hear it more often, telling me about your poetry, your day, talk to me like I am safe to be around. Like I might be comfort. And you? You are- your heart. I can‘t- I can‘t even begin to describe it. It‘s-, just everything-“

He falters, his voice wavering, and he feels like crying.

„I love you, Martin. I am thankful.“

Maybe he is actually crying.

„Jon?“

He definitely is crying and now also has started imagining things.

„I‘m here,“ he whispers despite his conviction that he probably has talked himself into hearing voices now. There is no way there could actually be a voice that is so much like warmth. It breaks his heart, puts it back together and kisses it better.

„Oh Jon-“

There is someone next to him, touching him – cold, but not unkind. Never unkind. Jon  jumps, jerks his head upwards, knocking it against  someone‘s chin – it‘s cold, so cold, but he  reaches out for it, grasping arms that are not his own . It feels like ice cubes  on his skin , but soft ones. Kind ones.

„Martin.“ He sees a face burning red, and he reaches out for it to touch the flushed skin, slowly warming – Martin seems flustered, but Jon could not think of a reason why he should be.

„Jon, I-“ The movement of Jon‘s hands fluttering all over his face make him stop talking, even go, impossibly, redder than before. „I- I‘m here, you can-“

„I don‘t want to,“ Jon interrupts him, resolution and determination making him feel dizzy with bravery. He cups his loved one‘s face, dragging it closer to his own, taking in the air around him, around _them_ , Martin‘s smell that still is somewhere, beyond the sea salt. „You are here.“

Martin smiles, a little bit incorporeal. But he feels so real – he is here. „I am, yeah- after, after that- oh gosh Jon.“ His voice breaks, and he pulls Jon into a tight embrace, hiding his face in the crook of  Jon‘s neck. „You shouldn‘t have done his,“ he whispers to  the skin there.

Jon huffs, indignantly, shaking his head as much as he can without making Martin end their embrace. „I absolutely should have and I‘m sorry I didn‘t get here sooner and- Martin. Martin.“ He can taste the name on his tongue, it  tastes like comfort.

„Jon, it‘s- let‘s get out of here, okay?“ Jon feels tears in his shirt, and Martin‘s grip tightening.

He  draws circles  on Martin‘s back, making noises that he hopes are soothing. „I love you,“ he whispers over and over again, repeats his name lik e the treasure it is.

„I love you, too.“ Martin lifts his head, and smiles at him – tears all over his red face that still is marked by the hurt of being lost, of being forgotten and left alone. Jon raises a hand to touch his cheek, and he leans into the touch.

His thumb brushes over Martin‘s skin, feather light and yet  with more weight than either of them could have guess ed before . They smile, but it‘s weary with the relief leaving, letting them  be  alone with their thoughts, tinted with sadness and anxiety and an unknown future.

„Thank you,“ Martin whispers into his hand, looking straight at him with eyes filled with stars. And Jon doesn‘t know it yet – Martin will tell him – but his eyes are the same, tracing nearby constellations.


End file.
